He chuckles with apparent good humour. "Ron Percy. Shoulda seen that one coming. Yeah, you got me good there." The transition from anger to goodwill is abrupt enough to be a little disturbing.

"But I told him before, its not on the cards. You won't get me again - I'm on to you now - so that's your hand shown. And I've told him before, the aim here is to open eyes, not to listen to some jumped up aristocrat who figures he's King Arthur. I'll admit, man - what did you say your name was? But I'll admit you got me once. But fool me once and all that. I'm gonna keep serving the works - hey!" This last is addressed to Norm as he's obviously struck by a thought.

"Hey, man. Listen, I'm sorry about that. Was pissed off at your friend there, you know how it is. But look, I thought of a way of making it up to you. You come here for lunch, I'll be brimming with power again by then" he winks at Bran "easy enough to piss people off if you work for the Scotsman. But yeah, come back here for lunch and I'll sort you out with a Big Mac that'll change everything. Trust me, man. Trust me on this. Come back on lunch, I'll give you one on the house and then we'll take a wander down to the cinema so I can get some serious juice and find out who's been fucking around with you. How's that sound man?"

Norm, Bran

Patveer has a Soul Skill called "Calm people down". Basically through long experience he's pretty good at getting people to stop being annoyed with him. He's just used it on both of you and made his rolls. This isn't magic, so feel free to ignore it. But you do find it hard to maintain a grudge against him or to hold his actions against him. Essentially you're inclined to view his punch on Bran and attempt to wind Norm up in the best light possible.

As I say, feel free to ignore if you feel it's inappropriate, but on the flipside this is something he's good at. I leave it in your hands.

Bran grins at Patveer. "Oh, you'd be surprised how viciously annoying I can be when I put my mind to it. Though I'd like to hear your pitch if you reckon it's better than his." Looks like I'll need to subcontract if I do want to put in with Percy's lot, he thinks to himself, but that can be arranged. Some of my classmates…

Miyo frowns and says nothing to Patveer. She isn't thrilled with how he decided to recharge his mojo, but she's not angry enough to pursue the matter. But she doesn't like or trust the man one bit, and her expression, dour and irritable, shows it. She jots down her number for Bran on a scrap of paper from her pocket and passes it over without speaking to Bran either, folding her arms after that. She keeps quiet for now, unwilling to shatter the progress made by Bran and Norm; she feels like they're getting somewhere at last with the inexplicable question of What the fuck happened to Honer's?

Norm shrugs at Patveer. "No worries, mate. It probably would have worked, too, if you hadn't just finished telling Miyo and myself about the loopholes. And that's a fair offer, a fair offer indeed, but I'll have to take a raincheck on it for now." He indicates Miyo and Bran with a jerk of his head. "I think the three of us need to have a sit-down and compare notes." Three? Wasn't there a fourth bloke in the group? Where did he wander off to? Ah, well.

Despite everything, the weirdness of the morning, he's feeling remarkably calm and peaceful. Almost inclined to be affable, even. Strange.

"Thanks for all the help," he says to Patveer. "Appreciate it." He inclines his head in a friendly nod toward the turbaned fellow. Others might have offered to shake hands, but then others weren't paranoid hypochondriacs.

Turning to Bran, he says, "how about it, Junior? Care to discuss this further over tea and biscuits? My treat."

He watches the exchange affably then nods to Bran. "You did alright there, man. But you won't get me again" - it's said with a broad grin as he digs his mobile from his pocket and glances at it. "As to my pitch, man I've got like seven missed calls from your friend Percy. And a text, he actually took the time to spell out "like" at the end of a sentence. Daft old coot.

What the hell was I saying? Oh yeah. My pitch. I ain't got one man. It's like I told your friends here, we're about opening eyes. That's it. We're good at what we do - ask your friend Ron about the devastating series of terrorist attacks on the millennium that returned mankind to the dark ages. Remember them? So we're good at what we do, and we'll manage. So I guess that's kinda my pitch. Ron's powerful, sure, he's a force to be reckoned with in Newcastle. But the time is coming, and coming fast, when he's an, a what do you call it, an anachronism. That's my pitch. I gotta get back to work, fill myself up again."

He laughs and offers his hand to Bran "You won't get me again. Your friend is right, go and have a drink and a talk. Take your school uniform off if you're going to try and get served though, man. Nothing more embarrassing."

An email from johnsanderson@gmail.com sits unread in your inbox, a Change of Plan announced by the subject line. Further investigation and a few quick taps of your thumb reveals the rest:

The girl (Nova) not coming and I may have a lead. Why don't we hook up this afternoon. Stay in touch (please) and I'll do the same - full disclosure to follow but in brief I want to try a little pharmaceutical experiment. Will explain more when I know a bit more about you.

Miyo nods and says, "Tea and a debrief it is, gentleman. Lead the way." She sees Bran checking something--a text or something, although she can't actually see what he's reading. She wonders where the fourth in their group got off too--had he slipped away during the confusion of the mock-fight with Patveer?

As soon as the confrontation between Patveer and Bran started, Chris quickly lost interest in the conversation. He instead was contempt with counting the bricks in the back wall of the McDonald's. He managed to count up to 17 before he grew bored again. And He wasn't necessarily ignoring the conversation at hand, he just felt that he had no justifiable input to well... input. He had also remember the reason he'd come here...food. Or more specifically, a double cheese burger, which he had an immense craving for. He quietly stepped back through the rear entrance, and made his way back to the counter.

The fast food joint was surprisingly abandoned save for the bored looking teenager behind the counter. He confidently walked up and ordered his meal along with a large Sprite. As he received his order, he wished the cashier a pleasant day, for which she then responded in kind. But only for him to look her in the eyes and say, "You don't mean that." He took a sip of his drink, and swaggered back to rear entrance. Chris found himself arriving just as Bran invited Miyo and Norm for tea and announces his presence. "I'd like to join, though I already have my own refreshments.” he says with a sly grin.

"Yeah, I should probably get back to work anyway." Patveer checks the time on his phone and nods. "Definitely. Look, guys, you know where I am now. I hope you get..." he frowns in a now familiar look of confusion and shrugs "..you know, whatever it was you wanted sorted out, I hope you get it sorted out. You know where I am, now, so if you ever think 'Hey, I bet Patveer can help us' then, hey, come on down. I work seven days a week doing the works."

He heads out of the alley a few paces then turns back. "Norm, man. I was gonna find something out for you but I can't remember what it was. Gonna head down to the cinema over lunch and tell everyone that Bruce Willis is dead and Kevin Spacey is Kaiser Soze, so should be packing some serious heat if you want me later. Toodles."

There's a Costa Coffee on Northumberland Street, several pubs which are closed for the moment and tend to cater to single mams and dole cheats anyway, and a few restaurants with a passable breakfast menu. For ease of not being overheard, Costa wins though for drinkable coffee its pipped into last place by the toilets in the curry house.

"Costa?" Bran inquires of everyone, and without waiting for agreement heads in that direction. En route he divides his attention between avoiding things like lampposts and other pedestrians and texting a Krav Maga classmate. Katy, got a jolly jape for you. Fellow thinks he's God's prettiest creation, needs taking down a peg. Text back if interested and I'll email full details.

Norm can't help but grin at that. "Cheers, mate. Give 'em all hell for me. If you want I can come back later and try to get irate at you." Despite his mercurial nature, Norm simply can't help liking Patveer and his attitude of cheery bugger-it-all offensiveness. He doesn't much care for foreigners, but then, he doesn't much care for his own countrymen either. Miyo is harmless enough, but he can't quite figure out what Bran's deal is. There's something about the kid that just rubs him the wrong way, and he can't figure out why. Probably because he projects an aura of knowing far, far too much for his own good. He can't be out of secondary school, and yet he seems to act and talk and think like someone twice his age. Best keep an eye on that one, Norm decides.

"Ah, there you are. We were wondering where'd you run off to," he says in Chris' direction. "C'mon. I said tea's on me, and if you know me you'll realize what a rare offer that is. I'm having second thoughts about it now, in fact. But once something's said, it can't be unsaid."

Once at the coffeeshop, he orders a green tea chai latte and claims a table with four seats.

"All right, Ju--Bran," he corrects himself, "care to bring the rest of us up to speed?"

"You got a chocolate chai latte like the other place? No? OK, large soy chai latte then. On him." Bran collects his drink and sits down across from Norm.

"All right," Bran says quietly. "Here's what I know.

"Remember what Tannen said? Go see Ron Percy at the King's Head pub. Which is what I did. He and Tannen have some kind of a rivalry going on. Remember Tannen said Newcastle was 'My Turf,' capital emm, capital tee? Well, Percy thinks he's King of Newcastle. So you can see how there might be a bit of conflict.

"Percy said the thing Tannen suggested, Back Monkey, might tell us why we were protected from the memory loss. And it does look like we're protected and not Tannen and Percy vulnerable. I did a little research online, some weird stuff like the Register of Companies having annual reports for 2006 and 2009 but no other years. Maybe you professional accounting types will know what that means, I don't.

"Now, Percy's got himself a regular throne room in the back of the King's Head, and he has himself a little royal court, all his relatives and a guy named Alf who comes off like the court jester. Each of them, as far as I can tell, is supposed to be following one of 333 archetypes, like gods and goddesses. Maybe not all of them, but definitely Percy and his, ah…his brother I think it was they said, though I didn't meet him. The King and the Guard in the Darkness respectively. And I'm guessing Alf is one too. The more Percy acts like a King, the more power the archetype gives him, and if he were the perfect King he'd become some kind of god of royalty.

"These 333 together run reality, like. And there are these things called rituals. Little magic spells. One of them is Back Monkey, what Tannen mentioned. It's really simple but you have to do it yourself, no one else can do it for you, and it doesn't always work. It shows you if someone else has put a spell on you. I can show you how, all you need is a fishtank and a fish and a knife. Doesn't matter what fish, doesn't matter what water, doesn't matter what knife, at least that's what Rachel Percy said, she's Ron's granddaughter and she's my contact. You just cut your hand and drip some blood in the tank and it shows you the name and face of whoever put a spell on you. For me it was Jean Nodshorns, that old busybody.

"Alf pointed out to Percy, I don't think he knows I overheard, that Jean Nodshorns is an anagram of J. Honer and Sons. Percy thought it wasn't a coincidence.

"So, Percy had his intelligence corps or whatever track you down here, and sent me to meet you—and that Patwel guy. Price of his aid, beyond what he's already given, is that I persuade Patwel to sign on with him instead of whoever he's working for now. Percy said to try pulling his leg a few times, prove I can make him lose his temper whenever I want, and he'll have no choice. Unfortunately, Norm made me admit I was working for Percy. I'm still going to see if I can pull it off though. I have some plans. That's if Patwel can't convince me he's more use to us not working for Percy. But until I do that, I can't go around telling people Percy's got my back, which he seemed to think would open doors somehow.

"Last thing is, Percy figures that Patwel has enough power that he can tell us what kind of magic was used to make Honer's go away. Apparently there are different kinds…?

"That's the story, from my end. What about yours?" He took a gulp of his now-tepid-enough-to-drink latte.

Miyo follows the group of fellows to Costa, and she gets herself just a plain white chocolate mocha. She decides against getting anything to eat just yet; eating will cut off any real conversation, and she's definitely looking to talk. She listens to Ban bring everyone up to speed, and she eventually raises an eyebrow and says, “Well, fishtank and a knife, huh? If a whole company hadn't upped and vanished, I would probably find that weird in some degree. But now I kind of want one.”

She crosses her legs and gets comfortable. She says, “So....Percy and company get power by acting a certain way, acting in line with an archetype, probably feeling a certain way too, like how Patveer was powering himself up by getting pissy with everything? Huh.” She doesn't bother to mention more about herself at this point; what good would it do? She's exactly what she seems, an employee caught in this peculiar crossfire.

The girl behind the bar serves coffees and tries to upsell muffins with a bright smile; either her soul hasn't been crushed by daily interactions with the general public or she's been forced into manic insanity by their ridiculous demands. You're not sure which, and it probably doesn't matter. You get some coffee out of it anyway, and an offer to stamp your loyalty card.

There's a low buzz of conversation and an even lower one of typing from the numerous laptops, you're pretty sure noone can really overhear you. Noone even turns to look when Bran's phone beeps with a received text:

Intrigued. Is there a deadline on this? Let me know the details and I'll see if I can't fit you in to my busy schedule. You owe me. Kx

While waiting for Norm and Chris to chime in, Bran opens his email on his phone and starts thumbing a message to Katy. (This is what the message will be when Bran finishes, which might not be until after the conversation's over)

There's a shift manager named Patveer Patwel down at the Northumberland Street McD's. He's as much of a colossal prick to everyone who comes in as he thinks he can get away with. Someone's got to take him down a peg, treat him the way he treats everyone else, make him completely lose his cool. I already took a run at him this morning and he popped me a good one on the cheek—Master would not be proud of me :( —so honors even, and he'll be expecting it if I try again.

Anyway, I'd be obliged if, sometime today or tomorrow, you went in and tweaked his nose. He's proud of his looks, maybe you could flirt a little and then make fun of him? Though I shouldn't tell you your business. When you're done, tell him "Greetings from Ron Percy." That's very important. If we're lucky he'll lose his cool all over again :)

Norm pays for the coffees as he promised, and sips from his green tea chai latte while Bran brings him up to speed. It's a pretty decent summation, as those things go; and while Norm is sure that Bran is holding something back, he's at least willing to give him the benefit of the doubt--for now.

"So everyone has a rivalry with everyone else, is that it?" he summarizes the summary. It's really not surprising, all things considered, and it does figure that he and Miyo would be wrapped up in the middle of some giant surreal free-for-all gang turf war. "Patwel seemed to think that it would take some heavy power to disappear a building as completely as Honer's. Someone with a major beef."

He drums his fingers on the table. [EDIT:] "The Register of Companies? Well, it's a...it's basically all the legal information you have to file in order for your company to exist. Your business license, all the names of the CEO and the Board of Directors, reported income for revenue purposes, things like that. It has to be filed each year. I think I was the one who filed it for Honer's in 2006, now that you mention it. I'm not sure about 2009, though. Miyo, wasn't that the year you prepared the report?"

He shrugs.

"Jean Nodshorns? Isn't she the old bird who regularly complains about everything in the Opinion section of the Times? Insufferable old witch. I can't stand her." He muses about Bran's revelation, working it out in his mind. "You're right, though. Jean Nodshorns. Honer J. and Sons. That can't be a coincidence."

His hand twitches, and he finds himself wishing he hadn't left his Glock 9mm in his desk drawer at home, illegal or not. It, alone, is the only thing that really gives him a sense of safety and security, especially now that the world's been turned on its head.

It's been a long day, and whichever mental process or processes oversee "putting your finger on things you knew all along" has got strained. Overloaded by the constant struggle to put your finger on where your employer is, probably. So it's perhaps forgivable that it takes the old synapses a little time to kick in.

The Registry of Companies, at Companies House, is - as you know and there's no earthly reason for repeating - the official list of every Limited Company in England and Wales, Scotland maintains a separate list for various reasons. In order for a company to have "Ltd" or "PLC" after its name it has to fulfil various legal requirements. One of those is being on this register and submitting various details every year - financial statements, records of the company directors, shareholder information where shares are traded, things like that.

For some reason, despite neither Miyo nor Norm being American, they compare it to one of the functions of the SEC.

The specifics take your tired minds a moment longer to kick in, but you get there in the end. In 2006, Norm personally prepared that information. In 2009 it was Miyo. In other years, though, one of the other accounting staff did it. Those two years are the only two that were done by either Norm and Miyo.

In short, records that weren't personally prepared by one of the people round the table seem to have disappeared along with the people that prepared them, ones prepared by one of the four of you have stayed present along with the four of you. There are legal ramifications to not filing this information, and frankly Horners should not have survived the gap in records between 2006 and 2009 or the gap between 2009 and the present day. Really, if records were submitted in 2006 and not 2007, there should have been no opportunity to submit in 2009 as the company would have been closed down. Clearly, though, that did not happen. So it looks like 2007, -08, -10, etc have been removed from the record, not that your colleagues have not done their job.

You stand outside the shop watching a young mam with a pushchair at the cashpoint and a Chinese - or some sort of East Asian at least - student walk-of-shaming home in last night's miniskirt and halter top. The rain has blown over for the moment but it'll be back shortly if you're any judge. Down the road a little you see the manager unlocking one of the pubs to get prepared for the day's trade. Just another day.

Scrolling through the phone - Adam, Adam Home, Alan, etc - you reach the D's. At first glance everything seems fine: Da Work, Da Mob, Da Work Mob but something is amiss and it takes you a second to place it. Da Work: 0115 2747354. 0115. The area code for...actually you're not sure. Somewhere that isn't Newcastle certainly: your da's work isn't Honer's - not even the right city. You think the mobile numbers have changed as well. Think. Who actually knows the numbers in their phone? You just select the one you need by name.

Scrolling quickly past Katy, Gary and Liam (Home and Mob) to get to Ma you find yourself at Mark. Going back: Liam Mob, going forwards: Mark. Liam ->Mark. Mark - >Liam. She bought you the phone and was so proud of putting those numbers in for you, bless her heart she's not great with phones, and now they're gone. Knowing it won't be there you check for her first name, but nothing.

Perhaps not the coolest thing to admit for a seventeen year old, but you miss your ma. It hits especially hard because all your concern had been whether your father was there or not, this has blindsided you a little. Obviously you had a mother, you rationalise, because, well, you're here and probably not the second coming. But whatever effect has removed Honer's and moved your dad's work has removed your means of contacting her. And for a moment a wave of isolation and helplessness hits you.

You miss your ma.

Bran

You know the rules. Char sheet updated. For my ease of running I'd prefer a frenzy response to be directed at the phone rather than the people around on the busy city centre shopping street, but I leave it up to you.

One second the kid's checking his phone, the next minute he's out of his seat and tearing down the street. Norm's coffee-tea fusion drink is spilled as Bran's knee hits the bottom of the table when he leaps out of his chair.

With a single glance to Miyo, Norm leaps out of his chair, and starts legging it after Bran. It's really not a fair race, though--Bran is an experienced parkour runner and Norm has a rugby player's physique. Well, without the missing teeth. Still, he tries.

"Pardon me, excuse me, pardon me," he mutters, as he jogs down the sidewalk, keeping one eye on the boy when he can. He's really not sure why he's chasing the kid, but he knows it's Important that he not lose him. Bran is tied into all this somehow, and Norm can't let him disappear like the others.

The two of you attract some odd looks as you run down Northumberland Street, but people generally mind their own business. A couple of people look like they may try to stop Bran - presumably reading the situation as "chasing a thief" and dreaming of being lauded in the local rag, but Norm's shouts dissuade them.

Eventually, just before Haymarket, Bran comes to a stop outside an Oxfam store. Mannequins in the window display last season's fashions while racks of Clive Cussler books await inside. Bran peers inside the window, trying to see the person behind the till.

It had caused arguments, actually, when his ma decided to take twenty hours a week in here. Working at a pittance, putting in enough unpaid overtime to bring her well below the minimum wage. She wanted something to do, he didn't see the point. It was never a serious argument and he didn't really have a leg to stand on, so she started working there.

It's not her there now though. An elderly woman you recognise from your previous visits to the store is bagging up a VHS box set. But today is one of her working days. She might well be in the back, behind the staff only door festooned with pieces of photocopied paper advertising local bands.

Bran stares through the glass. Da's in…whatever that city is. If Ma were working here, and not with Da, then—well, that wouldn't be good. Perhaps she'd be getting alimony? Because the pay here is nothing much.

At the end of the day he's going to have to go home somewhere.

Bran takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, reaches for the door—and turns to face Norm who's panting and lumbering up behind him.

"'s Ma's work," he explains to the older man. "Is, was, I dunno. Today'd be one of her work days. Just to keep busy."

He reaches for the door, turns back to Norm again. "What do I say to her? If she's there? And what do I do if she isn't? She's not in my phone any more, and Da's somewhere else, I don't recognize the area code."